


Manic Monday

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-03
Updated: 2007-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A day in the life of CJ and Paul, with input from Danny and Alicia





	Manic Monday

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Manic Monday**

CJ, Danny. OMCs, OFCs, 

Rating Adult – some smut. 

Spoilers through end of series. Also contains some things that may show up in "Holding Hands on the Way Down". 

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul. 

Feedback and criticism always welcomed. 

Thanks to lidarose for inspiring Danny's final (in this AU) book subject with her comment, in response to Danny co-authoring a book with the Prince of Wales was "Wow, our boy is coming up in the world!" 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

February 10, 2014; Kensington CA

“Marta, please don’t worry; we can live with a little dust for a week. Remember, I had this crud right before Christmas and CJ has it now. Take care of yourself and hopefully, we’ll see you next week.” 

Paul Reeves finished reassuring the cleaning lady that it was okay that she stay home in bed with her chills, cough, and fever, and ended the call. The phone rang again almost at once. It was the Berkeley Student Employment office. They had found someone who would be able to sit with the kids this afternoon. She had her own car, so all she would need were driving instructions; cab fare would not be required. He took the number and called the young woman, again explaining that he had a 15 month-old daughter and a four year-old son (“well, he would insist on saying four and a half”) who would need watching while he led his seminar. Also, he would want the sitter periodically to check on his wife, who was in bed with the flu bug that was going around the area, which was why they needed the last minute sitter. 

Now that Christmas was over and the new semester had started, they were settling down into a routine, into a “normal” life. 

Normally, CJ was in her office on Berkeley’s central campus on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from 9:00 AM until 3:00 PM. He had a seminar on Monday afternoon, another on Wednesday morning, a class that met on Thursday mornings, and the school-wide worship service and preaching practicums on Tuesday mornings. He held office hours and was available to other faculty on Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning. (By unwritten custom, the divinity schools did not schedule faculty meetings or administrative events on Monday mornings or Friday afternoons.) Paddy was in preschool on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings. They had in-home childcare for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings and Wednesday afternoons. Paul had managed to convince CJ to let him care for the kids on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, but they subscribed to a “drop-in” daycare service on campus in case he had an occasional meeting on those afternoons and needed to be out of the house, or if CJ had something scheduled on a Friday. 

It was easier than he expected. CJ’s hours on campus were similar to those Alicia had when she had finished her degree, earned a teaching credential, and began to teach art at one of the Montessori schools in Lexington. CJ’s work was more stress-filled than Alicia’s was (although Alicia discovering, through artwork, that two little girls were being abused by their “pillar of the community” stepfather was not exactly a light operetta) and they were dealing with a toddler and a preschooler as opposed to two kids in K-12, but she was home every night and not flying to Chicago, Capetown, and all points in-between. 

Part of him felt a bit guilty about being glad that she was no longer actively involved with “Road to a Better World”. Danny Concannon was a better man than Paul was, to accept fully the inconveniences of her mission. However, Danny did tell him, during those conversations in January, that CJ had already decided to take off at least a year when Caitlin was born, and that they had seriously discussed how they would manage financially if CJ decided she wanted to try the “more involved parent” role until Caitlin was in school. (Of course, Paul was sure that Franklin Hollis would have been there with a board of directors’ position for CJ; he could not imagine her as a total “stay at home mom” without any outside involvement.) The idea of change was not totally foreign to her before his proposal of marriage. 

Nor was he expecting that she morph into the type of wife their grandmothers were. He did the things that needed to be done on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she did them on Mondays and Fridays. Wednesday was “my idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance” day. Work on weekends was split according to need. Not every week, and certainly not every day, was fifty-fifty; things came up, like him being sick right before Christmas and her being sick now. But overall, it seemed to work that way. 

For now, they shared the cooking more than they alternated. He was showing her the things he had come to like over the past thirty years and she was showing him her favorites. It was fun. 

Like many of the other things they did together at home, it was also foreplay. A touch of a hand, a smile, a particular _double entendre_ that often caused Paddy to ask what was so funny, added spice to chopping vegetables and making salad. When she bent down from the waist to pick up a dropped piece of silver, he had to decide whether he wanted to look at her butt or down her blouse. When she reached across his body to grab a bowl, her hand always managed to brush against his groin. 

He saw the looks that passed between Derrick and Deborah over the Christmas break and the morning after Deborah made the remark about him buying lingerie, he had a conversation with his daughter similar to the one he had with Derrick over Thanksgiving. It was a little awkward because, as he told her, part of him would think of her as his little girl even when she had grandchildren of her own, but he wanted her to have a good relationship with the man she would eventually marry and he wanted her to know that he loved her mother. 

She told him that she understood. “Grandpa talked to me about Mom and Nana when he came up to Columbia for the Princeton game. He told me he hoped that Mom didn't put any inhibitions on me the way Nana did on Mom. He also told me he wanted you to be happy. I know he was so disappointed when his pacemaker had to be replaced and he couldn’t come out for the wedding.” 

Maybe in the spring he could take CJ and the kids back to New Jersey. He had a great deal of admiration and respect for Alicia’s father, now living in a retirement community by the Princeton campus. __

“Daddy always told me to not let my mother get to me the way she did. I wish I had listened to him more.” Alicia looked at the hotdog Danny was holding and pulled his hand toward her mouth. “Why don’t you start on that end and we can meet in the middle?” 

Danny smiled. Maybe by the time Paul got here, he would have most of her inhibitions erased. It was the least he could do for the man who was taking such good care of his family. 

Their sex life was still almost at the same level as it had been at Thanksgiving. He still reveled in having her in his bed every night (or morning or afternoon), not to mention his shower, study, living room, dining room, family room, and kitchen. On reflection, they had been together in every room except the children’s rooms and bath. 

He smiled as he remembered twilight on the day that the twins went to Tahoe and Paddy flew down to Santa Monica with Hogan. They started out on the couch in the living room, but ended up on the floor, with him lying on the floor and her straddling him, the lights from the tree turning her into stained glass. Afterward, as they were sitting on the floor nude, drinking hot cider spiked with brandy, he told her that it was the first time he had made love under a Christmas tree since the time in his apartment their second Christmas as a couple, right before they left California for the semester break. But that was just a little tree with a single string of lights. This tree was over six feet and had almost 800 lights twinkling from the trunk outward. He hoped that they would be able to make love with her under their tree for many Christmases to come. __

"If I had known how much he wanted it, I would have put a tree in our bedroom." Alicia wiped away a tear. 

Danny smiled at his memories about making love with CJ at Christmas. Then he got an idea. If he could convince Them to get everyone else involved in something in another galaxy, maybe he and Alicia could Swirl in the Aurora Borealis. 

Sometimes Paul wondered how he managed to keep himself in check, to keep him from showing his desire for her at importune times. He remembered especially that morning eight days ago, the anniversary of Danny’s death. He lay there in bed, holding her, stroking her hair, praying that his body would not react to the closeness of hers, knowing that he had to just be there and hold her, knowing that whether it was that night, the next day, or two or three days later, he would have to wait for her to want him. Just as come that dreadful day in May, she would have to wait for him. And he remembered how sweetly she reached for him early the next morning, a week ago today, covered his body with kisses, and made love to him and with him so ardently until the sounds of Caitlin stirring caused them to smile at each other and whisper “later.” 

“Morning, Papa.” Paddy came up to him and wrapped an arm around his hips. “Where’s Mama?” 

“Mama’s sick; she’s sleeping.” He poured a glass of juice for the boy. “Drink this while I get your sister.” 

Five minutes later, he came back with a freshly diapered Caitlin in his arms. 

“Food Court for lunch!” Paddy loved going to the Food Court in the Student Center. 

“Paddy, Mama’s sick and I have to stay home this morning and take care of her. We won’t be going to the gym and we’ll be eating at home today.” 

This semester, he had started spending time with Paddy on Monday mornings, taking the boy with him to the gym (after a leisurely breakfast at home) where the child had a swimming class while Paul worked out in the weight room and then a play and story-reading session in the on-site day care while Paul played basketball with fellow teachers and theologians from the Graduate Theological Union. The two of them would then eat lunch on campus before Paul would return Paddy to the house before teaching his seminar later in the afternoon. 

Paddy was already signed up for T-ball and soccer come spring. Once they figured out which he liked more (and Paul and CJ agreed that at his age, one sport was enough; they weren’t going to over-schedule the child, leaving no time for simple play) Paddy would resign from the other and Paul would volunteer to assist the team coach. The boy needed father-son bonding/male imprinting in the worst way. 

Paddy had slipped only a little, all things considered, since last February, but he hadn’t made much progress since then either. It was perfectly understandable, given the circumstances, (and Paul was extremely careful not to let CJ think that she had been lacking as a mother) . In any event, Paul hadn’t felt he had the right to step in last summer when Paddy wasn’t making a pest of himself with Stevie Muñoz, Manny Hammash, and Ricky Feldman, wasn’t wanting to be with the five and six year-olds on the block, wasn’t interested in things in which a four year-old boy should be interested. Neither had he had a problem with Paddy’s closeness to little Maggie (although he wasn’t sure if the parental joking about their “future” was a good thing). 

The only thing he reacted to was when Paddy started to use the potty seat again for urination instead of standing at the commode. For one thing, it just didn’t sit well with him. For another, teaching Paddy that rite of maleness was one of the few things that Danny really pushed himself to do those last few months and Paul felt it owed it to the other man, as part of his promise to help CJ with the children, to keep him from backsliding. 

Luckily, it started only ten days before Derrick came down and Paddy had a new hero. One little “big boys don’t pee like girls” from his son was all it took to stem that regression 

“I want Food Court!” Paddy kicked the underside of the table. 

Paul turned around from the high chair at the sound of the kick. “What was that?” He stared at the little boy. 

Paddy remembered when Daddy looked at him like that, before Daddy had to go to heaven. Daddy gave him a time out. “I want Food Court”, Paddy thought to himself, but he was careful not to kick the table again. 

Paul knew that the little boy was disappointed, but it couldn’t be helped. 

As is the case with most bouts of the flu, the onset of CJ’s could be pinpointed fairly accurately to yesterday just after 1:00 PM. He was driving the family home from church (with a planned quick stop at the supermarket) when she asked him to pull over to the side of the road. She opened the door, leaned out, and vomited. After he helped her clean up with the water from Caitlin’s bottle, she asked if he would mind picking up the items they needed by himself while she stayed in the car with the kids, and to maybe get something from the prepared meal station for lunch for him and Paddy. 

By the time he did the shopping and they returned to the house, she was coughing and sneezing. He took the kids inside and got them settled, while she sat at the kitchen table with a glass of ginger ale. On his second trip with the groceries, she got sick again. He helped her to their room, held her while she rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, then he washed her face and got her out of her clothes and into a nightgown and bed. 

Later that evening, she was able to keep down some orange juice and some chicken broth. This morning, she was feverish to his touch and she needed help to the bathroom, after which she went right back to sleep. In a little while, he’d try to get her to take a cup of tea. She needed to replenish her fluids. 

“Papa, can we have French toast?” __

**“May** we have French toast.” Danny corrected his son. “And if you make any more fuss about having to stay home when your mother is sick -- ”. He left the threat unfinished. 

“I suppose we can.” Paul opened the refrigerator to get the eggs, milk, and butter. Where were the eggs he bought yesterday? He distinctly remembered buying them; he had to check four cartons before he found one with no cracked or thin-shelled eggs. 

“Oh, shi – ucks!” Did he finish bringing in the groceries yesterday after CJ got sick the second time? 

Picking up Caitlin, he went out to the drive and opened the back of the SUV. Three bags. Toilet paper. A box of graham crackers, one of dishwasher detergent, and a bottle of V-8. And a carton of eggs and a package of cream cheese. The cream cheese was a lost cause. He knew that eggs, if pasteurized, could stay at room temperature, but these had been in the back of the SUV, with the sun beating down on it; he didn’t want to take a chance on using them. His family’s health was worth more than the measly little $2.00 the eggs cost. He would pick up some more after his seminar this afternoon. 

Back in the kitchen, he checked the carton of eggs already in the refrigerator. Two. He needed to keep them for CJ; with any luck, she would be able to keep them down. 

“Paddy, I’m sorry, we don’t have enough eggs for French toast. I need to save them for Mama.” 

“I want French toast!” 

Again, the stare, but Paddy was even more upset. First no Food Court and now no French toast. 

Paul decided to make oatmeal. Alicia always claimed that the kids did better with a hot breakfast. Also, he could put maple syrup in the oatmeal; at least Paddy could have the taste of French toast. 

“Goob bornging.” CJ came into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. 

“Sweetheart, you should have stayed in bed. Would you like some tea?” He turned up the gas under the teakettle. 

Five minutes later, he had sliced a banana and put the pieces on Caitlin’s high chair tray, put a cup of tea into CJ’s hands, put some oatmeal in a small dish to feed to Caitlin, and then put more oatmeal in a dish for Paddy, adding some sugar and some maple syrup. 

“Here you go, oatmeal that tastes like French toast.” 

“Don’t want oatmeal!” Paddy swept the bowl off the table. It hit the floor and broke in half. At the same time, CJ got up, reached for the trashcan, and proceeded to lose the tea she had drunk. Caitlin started wailing. 

Paul counted to ten silently, then silently thanked God for the patience to have done so. 

Picking up the baby, he helped CJ to her feet. Then he turned to the suddenly frightened and very quiet little boy. 

Very softly, very deliberately. “Go to my study, sit on the loveseat, and wait for me. Do not turn on the television; do not touch anything. Just sit there.” 

In the nursery, he grabbed the caveman doll and put it in the crib with Caitlin. She started “talking” to it in grunts and a couple of nonsense syllables. He helped CJ clean up and got her into bed. Sitting next to her on the bed, he smoothed back her hair. “Sweetheart, I know we should do this together, but you’re in no shape and he’s too young to wait until you feel better. I need to deal with him as soon as possible. For that matter, even if he were older, I never believed in putting off disciplining the children. It’s cruel.” 

“’kay,” she yawned. He kissed her forehead, got up, and started toward the door. 

“Paul.” 

He turned around. 

“You aren’t going to span -” 

“For a temper tantrum?” he laughed. “Sweetheart, if I had spanked Deborah every time she threw a temper tantrum, it would have been closer to two hundred times than to two times.” 

He stopped in the kitchen and picked up the two pieces of the broken bowl, then went to the study. 

Paddy was as frightened as he had ever been in his four “and a half” years. Papa looked so stern. Some of the other boys at preschool talked about being spanked and he was sure that Papa was going to do that to him. 

Paul set the broken china on the table in front of the little boy. 

“Why did you break this dish?” 

“I wanted French toast. I wanted Food Court.” 

“What if the pieces had hit Caitlin, or your Mama? They could have been hurt. Did you want to hurt them?” 

Paddy shook his head. 

“I can’t hear you.” 

“No, Papa.” 

“Paddy, I made a mistake and left the eggs in the car overnight and they weren’t any good. We have only two eggs left and we need to keep them for Mama. She’s sick and they are probably the only thing she can eat. We need to take care of her. Remember before Christmas when you and I were sick? Remember how Mama took care of you?” 

He did. Mama made him special food, scrambled eggs with hot dog circles “like Daddy ate when he was a sick little boy.” She cut his toast into shapes like Christmas trees and stars. She put colors in his ginger ale and gave him special straws. She put a crushed up candy cane in his ice cream. She held him on her lap and fed him different colored Jell-O cubes. She found his old sippy cup and put ice and water in it so he could drink it lying down in bed when his throat was scratchy, but she said she wouldn’t tell anyone else that he used a baby cup. She put a warm cloth over his eyes and nose when they hurt. 

“Mama was real nice.” 

“Yes, she was. That’s what we do as a family. We take care of each other. Mama went out of her way to make you and me feel better. Now it’s our turn to go out of our way to make her feel better. That’s why I’m saving the eggs for Mama. But you wanted me to use them for French toast so you broke a dish and made a mess on the floor. Do you think that was going out of your way to make Mama feel better?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sorry that you made a mess and broke the dish?” 

“Yes, Papa.” 

“Are you going to do it again whenever you are asked to do something special for Mama or Caitlin or Deborah or Derrick or me?” 

“No, Papa.” 

“You’re forgiven. Come here and give me a hug.” 

Paddy breathed a sigh of relief and did as he was told. 

“Now let’s talk about penalties.” 

Was Papa going to spank him now? He thought he was forgiven. 

“First of all, there’s a broken dish. You broke it and we have to get a new one. Go to your room and bring back your piggy bank.” 

While Paddy was gone, Paul got two envelopes from the desk and then googled the manufacturer and the pattern name from the bottom of the broken bowl. 

“Open your piggy bank and take out your money.” 

“But, Papa.” 

“Paddy.” Again the look like Daddy. Paddy did as he was told. 

Paul did a quick estimate. It looked like about twenty-one dollars and some change. 

“Now, Mama and I are both very busy and we don’t have time to go to the store to try to find a new bowl, so we’re going to order it online and have it mailed to us. See, here’s a picture of the bowl we need.” He showed the screen of his laptop to Paddy. “The bowl is $8.99. Count out nine dollar bills and put them in this envelope.” 

Very slowly, Paddy put nine dollar bills in the envelope. Paul reached into his pocket. “Here’s your change.” He put a penny on the table. 

“Now, we have to pay shipping and handling. Oh, my, that is $7.95. Now put eight dollars in the envelope. Here’s your nickel. And the tax is 1.55. I think you can count that out exactly. That’s a dollar, two quarters, and a nickel. Okay, I’m going to seal this envelope and give them a credit card number. Then I’ll use this money to pay the credit card.” Paul finished the order and pressed “submit”. 

“If Derrick were here, he would tell you that you’ve just paid what are called 'compensatory damages'. That’s two big words for paying to replace what you broke. There’s also something called 'punitive damages'; that’s the price you pay for doing a bad thing. Put the rest of your money in this other envelope. When we go to church on Sunday, you need to put that envelope in the collection basket.” 

“But that’s all my money.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Derrick and Deborah. I need presents for them. They’ll think I don’t love them.” 

“They might. Unless you tell them what you did and why you don’t have any money. It’s up to you. When you do something wrong, you have to make reparations. That’s another big word. You can always make them cards with your crayons and maybe you can do something for them like maybe make their beds the next time they come to visit. Or you can save your allowance for the next month and buy them something. Their birthday isn’t till March 21st.” 

“Maybe you can give me an extra job like at Christmas?” Papa let him gather up the newspapers and paid him a bonus so he could buy presents for everyone, because four dollars a week doesn’t buy a lot of presents, especially when you have to put a dime in the collection basket at Mama’s church, another one in the basket at Papa’s church, and fifty cents in your nest egg at the place where Mama and Papa kept their money. And that didn’t count buying a candy bar at the Food Court or at the gym. 

“I’ll think about it. There’s one more thing. You don’t have to do it, but it might be nice to draw something for Mama, to make her feel better. Now let’s go to the kitchen and make the eggs for Mama.” 

“Okay.” He put his face against Papa’s leg. “I love you, Papa. I’m sorry.” 

“I know, son. Let’s forget all about it.” __

Danny was about to reach down and swat his son’s little ass. 

“Don’t.” Alicia said. “Like Paul said, it was only a temper tantrum.” 

She was probably right. “Let’s go over to Pegasus and watch Northern Dancer, Secretariat, Citation, Aristides, and Barbaro play Kentucky Derby”. 

Paddy drew a picture of a flower for his Mama while Papa cleaned up the mess and made the scrambled eggs. Then Papa washed his scissors in hot water so Paddy could cut Mama’s toast into heart shapes for Valentine’s Day. (Paddy was glad he had already bought his Valentine cards for everyone and had bought Mama and Papa a box of candy. This losing everything in your piggy bank could be dangerous. He needed to ask Derrick about it.) 

Mama was able to eat the eggs. She liked the toast hearts and she hugged him for the flower picture. Then she said her head hurt and Papa said he would get her some pills. 

“Papa, why don’t you and Mama take off your clothes and you hold Mama’s head in your lap?” 

The two adults looked at each other. 

“Why?” Paul asked. 

“Because once I saw Mama and Daddy. Mama’s head was in Daddy’s lap and Daddy’s head was in Mama’s lap. He was upside down on the bed. They were humming. I think it made them feel good. It might make Mama feel better.” 

CJ buried her blushing face in the pillow and tried not to laugh; the laugh turned into a cough. 

Paul thought to himself that he was pretty sure it made them feel good. 

Mutual oral sex had never been part of his repertoire. He found that he preferred to devote all his wits to the woman he was pleasuring in such a manner, to be able to interpret sighs, movements, and hands as he skirted the line between pleasure and pain with his lips, teeth, and tongue. And when he was the one receiving the pleasure, all his wits tended to concentrate on approximately 33 cubic inches of **his** body. __

"He's good; he's damn good," Alicia said. "Not that I had anyone to compare him to." 

That was okay, Danny thought. He knew that Brianna and CJ, at least, thought **he** was damn good also. 

But two months ago, CJ surprised him; she reversed herself on the bed two months ago and had taken him in her mouth. Sometimes he forgot that CJ hadn’t been a nun for those thirty years between then and now. Witness the child on the bed and the one in the other room. She apparently was accustomed to it, and he was willing to try again. He could always apologize if he hurt her. 

But there was another matter at hand. 

“Paddy, how did you happen to see your Mama and Daddy in their bed?” 

Oops. He was going to be in trouble for the second time this morning. 

“It was after we went to the woods and before Daddy found out he had to go to heaven. I forgot and broke a rule. I didn’t mean to.” He tried hard not to start crying. “Am I in trouble again? You already have all my money.” 

Paul looked at CJ. “Well, Derrick will also tell you about something called ‘statute of limitations’. That means that after a certain time, you really can’t get into a lot of trouble for most things you do wrong. But it’s very important that you don’t come in here or any place where your Mama and I are sleeping without asking and being told to come in. Do you understand?” He lifted the little boy’s chin. 

“Yes.” 

“Were there any other times?” 

“Well, not really, but - ”. 

“But what?” 

“When I visited Maggie. We were outside playing and we heard a noise. We peeked in Aunt Diana and Uncle Frank’s window. She was tickling his wee-wee.” 

“His what?” 

“His penis.” Papa wanted him to use the right words. 

“And you knew that peeking in the window was the same as opening the door.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Are you going to peek in anybody’s window again?” 

“No, Papa.” 

“Then give us a hug and go sit in Caitlin’s room in time out while Mama and I talk for a little bit. Shut the door on your way out.” 

Paul managed to stifle his laugh until the boy left. 

Paul pulled CJ’s head into his lap and felt her forehead; she was still feverish. “I’d like to make it feel better, even if what he saw was designed to make the person with the head in the lap feel better. Maybe we need to put some bells on the doorknob. I don’t think we should lock it. And I think maybe I need – we need,” he corrected himself, “to talk with him a little about sex. We don’t want him trying some of this stuff with Maggie.” 

“Whatever you think is best,” she yawned. 

“Now I know you’re sick,” he kissed her forehead. “I’m not going to hold you to that. We’ll discuss this after you feel better.” 

Last September, about two weeks into the engagement, she began to have a few qualms about how they would manage together. 

“I’m not changing my mind,” she had hastened to assure him, “but I’m no longer the totally adoring little twenty year-old who accepted everything you said as gospel. You aren’t going to be able to manage me the way you did back then. I’m not used to being managed.” 

He remembered thinking that the fact that she made that last statement was proof in itself of how skillfully Danny managed her. However, he was not about to tell her so. 

He did tell her that, believe it or not, he had mellowed some in the past thirty years. He told her that he knew he would have to make a conscious effort not to take charge of their life together. And he did warn her that if she did not assert herself, his natural inclination to take charge would probably assert itself. 

“I’m not going to tell you what to wear, what to buy, sweetheart. I’m not going to dictate what we watch, what we read. I know that you handled all the finances for you and Danny; Alicia and I did our stuff together. With everything depositing electronically and all the e-billing, I think we should be able to do everything jointly, but if you want to take care of it all, that’s fine by me. 

“But if there’s something that has to be done, something that has to be decided, and there’s any hesitancy on your part, my natural inclination would be to take the bull by the horns, take the responsibility, to make the decision. It’s just part of my natural maleness, I guess, my wanting to take on the hard stuff.” 

“You sound like one of those ‘Promise Keepers’ that were big about fifteen years ago,” she had commented. 

“If you’re asking if I intend to ‘love you into submission’, the answer is no,” he had replied, laughing. “That group had a lot of ideas with which I disagreed. But I do intend to keep the promise I made to Danny, the promises I’ll make to you and to God at the altar.” 

So now, when she essentially ceded authority on this particular situation to him, he knew that he shouldn’t take advantage of her illness. There was no imminent need to have the talk with Paddy. And he would much rather she call Diana and tell her what happened over Christmas than for him speak with Diana and Frank. 

“Let me go reprieve our son and give him some lunch. With everything that happened, you and Caitlin are the only ones that have had anything solid so far today.” 

He kissed her again, picked up the tray and went to Caitlin’s room. Paddy was curled up on the daybed, sleeping. Paul decided to let him nap until he cleaned up the kitchen. Luckily, he had already prepared the initial lecture for this afternoon’s meeting of his seminar on Bioethics. This early in the term, the students weren’t always as willing to participate and he would need to take a more active role to get them talking. 

After setting some soup on the stove to heat and making a salad for himself (having skipped the gym, he’d best watch what he ate today), he went to get the kids. After changing Caitlin, he gently shook the little boy. 

“Let’s eat lunch before the sitter comes.” With the disappointment over the French toast and the Food Court, he decided to give Paddy some leeway at lunch. “Would you prefer a grilled cheese sandwich or a tuna salad sandwich with your soup?” However, you didn’t give a child an open-ended decision. 

“Whatever you want, Papa.” Paddy wanted to stay on Papa’s good side. He needed another job to make some money for presents for his big sister and brother. 

“I’m just having salad and a little soup.” 

“Then I’ll have salad, too.” 

Paul thought fast. He could make up the tuna fish and if the kid got hungry later, the sitter could make him a sandwich. For that matter, she could make one for herself. 

The young woman was an English major hoping to be accepted into the graduate program in journalism. Paul mentioned that his daughter was studying the subject at Columbia and that his wife’s first husband, the father of the two children for whom she would be sitting, was also a journalist. His last book, a biography of the sitting Pope, was being published posthumously next month. __

Danny was glad that the book would finally be hitting the presses. He was half-afraid that His Holiness would be up here in heaven before the book was out. And he was deeply grateful that Jed Bartlet worked with his editor on the final copy. The former president made sure that Danny’s style was preserved in the text. 

When the young woman found out Danny’s name, she raised her eyebrows appreciatively. 

He introduced her to Paddy, went over some details about Caitlin, and gave her his cell number as well as showing her where the doctors’ numbers were. He checked and CJ was sleeping, so he didn’t take her in the room but reiterated his request that she check on the invalid periodically. 

“It’s no problem at all, Dr. Reeves. Go teach your class.” 

With final kisses for the kids, an admonition to “listen to Miss Tina” to Paddy, and a “help yourself to anything you want in the fridge”, he was out the door. 

It took about an hour for his students to loosen up enough that he wasn’t constantly leading the discussion, but then things took off and the afternoon flew by quickly. 

In the grocery, he had an idea, initially thought better of it, then changed his mind again. “Why the hell not?” 

When he arrived home, Tina told him that the kids had been fine, that Paddy did indeed want a tuna salad sandwich about 2:30, and that she had checked twice on Mrs. Reeves, giving her some chicken broth and some ginger ale. She also mentioned that she was usually free on Monday afternoons if he ever needed an emergency sitter again and to keep her phone number. 

After putting away the groceries (and double-checking the back of the car for any forgotten bags), Paul went to check on his wife. She was awake but tired and weak. She also said she felt as grubby as a used Kotex. Could he help her to the shower? 

He made sure that Caitlin was okay and happy with her caveman doll, and asked Paddy if he could be a good boy, watch a Muppet rerun, and stay out of trouble while he helped Mama get clean. Then he returned to the bedroom, undressed himself, helped CJ to the bathroom, undressed her, and helped her step into the shower with him. 

The previous owner had modernized the bath and the walk-in shower had a bench, an overhead rainfall shower, steam, multiple body sprays, and a hand-held attachment with a very long flexible hose. He was able to wash her body and her hair while she sat, then held her up against him while he used a cloth and the hand-held to clean her genitalia. He brought her toothbrush into the shower and helped her to clean her mouth. 

He wrapped her in a terrycloth robe and had her sit in one of the big easy chairs while he dried himself, dressed, and changed the bed. As he helped her back into bed and towel-dried her hair, he told her that if his illness was any indication, she would be feeling totally miserable through tomorrow, start to feel better on Wednesday, but still be weak for the next few days. He was going to call her administrative assistant, tell the man that she would be out the rest of the week, and to cancel her appointments. No, she was not going to “wait and see” for the rest of the week. He was also going to call the regular sitter and let her know that she would have an extra charge the rest of the week. If she felt better on Friday, the kids could stay home with her in the morning; otherwise, he would take them to the drop-in daycare. Actually, he just decided he would try to reschedule his Friday appointments and stay home that morning. Sure, they could discuss it, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. Now, did she want more chicken broth for supper, or did she think she would handle some meat and rice in the soup? How about a baked potato? He'd be back in a minute with some ginger ale. 

Paddy kept her company while he fixed her soup and while she ate. By that time, she was nodding off again, so the little boy took the tray and went to the kitchen. 

“What’s for supper, Papa?” 

“Come see.” 

“French toast! For supper? French toast is for breakfast.” 

“Well, today we’re going to have breakfast at supper time. Sausage and French toast. And carrot sticks. Mama would want us to have a vegetable.” 

“French toast! Yay! I love you, Papa!” 

After the meal, Derrick called to see how things were going. He had come down the previous weekend to be there in case things got rough for his father, with the anniversary of Danny’s death, and he wanted to make sure that everything was still fine. Paul told him about CJ’s illness and said that things were a bit hectic because of it. 

When pressed for details, Paul hesitated. Technically, Derrick and Paddy were brothers, and Paul had never discussed one child’s misbehavior and discipline with the other. He wasn’t about to start now, at least not unless or until Paddy broached the subject with his big brother first. 

“Listen, Paddy’s champing at the bit to talk with you. Let me put him on while I check on CJ and Caitlin. Don’t let him hang up.” 

“Hi, Derrick. I messed up. I broke a dish. On purpose, but not really.” 

Derrick told Paddy not to worry about buying presents for him and Deborah. He knew these things happened; it had happened to him often enough when he was growing up. Derrick explained that when he got a little older, Paddy would have more discretion about how much “present money” he could put in his piggy bank and how much he would have to put in the bank account. He would be able to spend the piggy bank money on just about anything he wanted, but he could lose all of it if he misbehaved. He would need Mama and Papa’s permission to take money out of the bank account, but they couldn’t make him give any of that money for “reparations”. And, no, never, never try to fool them by keeping some money in a secret place, like under your socks or behind a book. And once Paddy got big enough to have a wallet, Papa would want that money, too. When Paddy got bigger still, sometimes Papa might give him a choice between paying all the money or being grounded for a long time. And being grounded meant no television, no phone calls, and no computer, except for homework, as well as having to stay in the house. It would be best to try to avoid doing anything bad, but nobody’s perfect and Papa wasn’t being mean, he was just trying to help Paddy grow up to be a good person. And, not for nothing, it’s not just Mama and Papa’s bedroom door you shouldn’t open. You shouldn’t open **any** door to **any** room where Mama and Papa are alone. In fact, make sure they know you’re coming even if the door is open. 

Paul came back into the room with Caitlin and took the phone from the little boy. 

Derrick told him that Paddy told him about the morning’s events. “Sounds like you’ve had a fun Monday, Dad.” 

“It's been a bit manic. I swear, Derrick, when that bowl hit the floor, CJ started upchucking, and the baby was crying, for a split second I wondered what in hell I had gotten myself into.” 

“And after that split second?” 

“Never any doubts. This new life is a gift from God. So, he told you?” 

“Yeah. I filled him in a little, especially about not trying to hide any money. I hope you don’t mind. That shipping and handling, that was almost as much as the bowl.” 

“I’m sure that CJ will have the same reaction when I tell her. But if it didn’t go for that, it would have gone into the church envelope. Whatever’s in the bank”. Again, back in September, when Paul had explained his theories on discipline to CJ, he told her that money and its value was something that kids learned to understand fairly early; he found his methods were much more effective and easier to apply than groundings or denial of things like special events, television, and computer use, especially when the kids were small. 

“I know,” Derrick said, remembering the time he kept $100.00 from a birthday check from his uncle to impress his friends. Then the next day, he broke curfew for no good reason and didn’t even bother to call home. “Dad, you know I would never question your parenting. And if CJ’s smart, she won’t either. I only hope that when my time comes, I can be half as good a father as you are. Not that that’s going to happen anytime soon,” he hastened to add. “Oh, he also told me about the things he saw that he shouldn’t have. You need to talk with him and make sure he knows he and Maggie can’t do them if they ‘play house’. I can’t have my little brother getting more action than I am.” 

“That reminds me. Last Thursday, when I went to pick him up at the preschool, they told me that he and some of the other boys were talking about the differences between boys and girls. It seems that one of the mothers got her drawers in a twist, not because they were talking about it, but because Paddy used the correct terms, or as correct as he can pronounce them. You would have thought that 'penis', 'vulva', and vagina' were - anyway, now I have to figure out how to tell him that he didn't do anything wrong but he needs to be cautious about with whom he talks about these things." 

"Do you know how many guys **my** age don't know the difference between vulva and vagina? Listen, I still have 100 pages of Con Law to read. Kiss everyone for me. ‘Night. Dad. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Derrick.” 

He heated Caitlin’s bottle, fed her, and got her into her crib for the night. Then he drew a bath for Paddy and sat in the children’s bath, reading to the boy while he played with his toys in the tub. After a quick check of ears and face, he helped the child to dry himself, get into his pajamas and into bed, and then read some more to the youngster. 

After a quick check on CJ (sleeping again), he went to the study to review his lecture notes for his class on Introduction to Christian Education for Thursday. By 10:30, he was ready to call it a day. How did CJ manage in December when he and Paddy were ill? Of course, the fall semester had just ended at that time and the various department chairs with whom she was working were up to their eyebrows in grading final papers, so she hadn’t had to go into work. Plus two of his worst days were over the weekend. But still, she managed to take care of the three of them plus get ready for Deborah and Derrick. Women – the weaker sex? 

CJ woke up as he climbed into bed beside her and turned to face him. He intended to just put his arm around her and snuggle her down against his chest but his body had other ideas and reacted to hers. 

He tried to keep his arousal away from her but as she made herself comfortable against him, she felt it, brushed her hand across his groin, reached to put her arm at his neck and kiss him, and began to turn onto her back, pulling him with her. 

He resisted her efforts. “Sweetheart, I don’t want, well, of course, I want, I always want you,” he laughed, “I mean, I don’t expect you to make love with me when you’re sick.” He kissed her nose. 

“But if you want, it’s not like I’d have to do a lot of work,” she yawned. 

“Look at you. If I did, you’d probably fall asleep before I was done; what would **that** do to my ego?” he joked. “I’ll live. Now go to sleep.” 

“I hear and obey.” 

“Yeah, right,” he thought to himself as he fell asleep, thankful that they had made it through Monday. 


End file.
